Figure it Out
by anincandescentwriter
Summary: After Jack's death, Alex isn't as alone as he thought he was.
**A/N: For some reason, this has been in my head for the past week and I decided to write it down. I don't actually think it'd be plausible in the true Alex Rider universe, but I tried to make it as realistic as possible. It turned out a lot longer than I thought it would because I added some scenes to hopefully give it some depth. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!**

The cleanliness of the room was what woke him. There was no dirt and grime, no roaches and spiders. Instead, a soft bed and fluffy pillow comforted him. Warm sunlight poked through the window, alerting the man to the machines that surrounded him. Blearily, the man came to a sudden conclusion. He was safe, finally out of SCORPIA's hands.

The door to his hospital room opened quietly and the man in the bed jumped, on the defensive. The woman who had just walked through the door smiled warmly at the man.

"Relax. I'm Dr. Song. You are at St. Dominick's Hospital in London. I'm glad to see you finally awake." The man opened his mouth and croaked out a few words.

"How bad am I?"

"Considering severe dehydration, starvation, and torture, not too bad. You will recover but it'll be a long and difficult road." She went into a longer explanation and explained what had transpired at the hospital since he had been brought in. The man leaned wearily against the white pillow.

"I'll notify your emergency contacts that you have awakened. I'm sure they will be here soon. In the meantime, please don't exhaust yourself. The TV remote is on the table next to you." Dr. Song left and the man once again had only his thoughts for company.

He wondered how long it would take MI6 to arrive at the hospital. Allowing himself a small smirk, the man figured it wouldn't be long. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if agents were already at the hospital. The man hoped his recovery wouldn't be too long. He was anxious to get home. He wanted to see his nephew and housekeeper turned family. He didn't know long he had been gone, and he didn't know what his family had been told in his absence but the man was ready to be with them.

The door opened again but this time the man was ready for it. It was another woman.

"Mrs. Jones." The man said, pretending to tip an imaginary hat in her direction.

"Mr. Rider." The woman emotionlessly said.

"Please. We've known each other long enough. Call me Ian." A flicker of sadness crossed Mrs. Jones's eyes at the man's identification.

"Alright…Ian. What happened? We were under the impression Yassen assassinated you." The man closed his eyes as he thought back to that day.

"I was too. I thought I was done for. I passed out in my car and woke up in a hovel of some sorts. I was all patched up, crudely, but I was alive. I wasn't sure why, but then I found out. It was SCORPIA. They were looking for information. At first the questions were normal: What does MI6 know? Who are the double agents? But then the questions changed. They kept asking about what 'his' weaknesses were? I don't even know who they were talking about. But I didn't give them any information." Ian Rider continued on with his tale and the specifics of what happened in the hovel, not skipping a single detail.

Mrs. Jones was distressed for the first time in her life. Nothing fazed her, ever. But then Alex Rider had to walk in through the bank doors and change everything. And now Alex's supposedly dead uncle was admittedly not dead. What was she going to do?

"Thank you for your service, Ian. The Royal and General Bank commends you for your excellent work. You will be moved in two days' time to Brecon Beacons for your safety. While the SCORPIA threat has been neutralized we must make sure all threats to your safety have been eliminated. I wish you a speedy recovery." Mrs. Jones made to leave but Ian Rider stopped her.

"Wait! That can't be all you have to say! What happened? How long was I gone? Where is my nephew? When can I see him? When can I go home?" The desperation in his voice escaped and Ian struggled to pull it back in. Mrs. Jones paused, unsure of what to say.

"You will be debriefed when you are well enough to return home. Until then you are to remain out of contact with Alex." Mrs. Jones reached the door. "A year. You've been gone a year." With that she closed the door.

* * *

Alex sat alone against a tree with nothing but a book. These peaceful moments were the ones he looked forward to the most. And while Alex didn't technically have a schedule to keep, the others did, hindering Alex's peacefulness. So he took what he could get, relishing the moments alone, the moments he could let his grief out with no one judging him, or pitying him. That was the worst part, Alex decided. Not the stares or the surrounding, but the pity everyone seemed to look at him with. Like he was glass just about to break.

A soft fluttering of disturbed wind alerted Alex to another presence.

"Hi Ben." Alex said quietly.

"Hi Alex." The older man said. The two sat in relative quietness for a time before Ben broke the silence. "I hear you are moving to America."

"Yeah." Alex ripped out some grass, twisting it in his hands, before it blew away.

"What are you doing here then?"

"Waiting."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." Just a week ago Alex returned back to England after his latest mission in Cairo, the worst one yet. Jack died there and Alex felt lost.

Mrs. Jones had debriefed him back at the Royal and General Bank and explained how deeply sorry she was for the pain she caused. Mrs. Jones went on to say that Alex was done with MI6 and would never again attempt to use a teenage spy. Alex just nodded, too exhausted to express any emotion. When Alex asked where he was going to live, she told him the Pleasures wanted to take him in. However, getting the official paperwork and visa would take some time. Not long, Mrs. Jones said, but it would be about a week or so to process everything because even top secret spy agencies have to take time to do paperwork the right way.

Unfortunately for Alex, there was no place for him to go to while he waited. So Mrs. Jones sent him to Brecon Beacons for the time being while the details were being worked out. It was the safest place for him to wait. Of course he wouldn't have to participate in any activities. He was just there to exist safely.

Alex found he didn't mind the SAS camp. The soldiers left him alone for the most part. He didn't have to participate in any activities. The only thing Alex was required to do was eat with K-Unit. It was supposed to help with is mental state, at least that's what the psychiatrist said. He was supposed to create new friendships and attachments. Alex almost laughed out loud when he first heard. Picturing the burly and stoic SAS men as friendly and caring was near impossible to him. But Alex complied with the demand.

He spent his days doing homework and running, just waiting for the call from MI6 that he could leave. For some reason, Alex believed Mrs. Jones when she said he was done. And he knew that he would be out of the country very shortly. So he was patient.

"What are you doing here Ben?" Alex asked.

"I'm taking you to the airport tomorrow. Mr. Pleasure will take you from there."

"Alright." One more night. Alex could do this.

* * *

Mrs. Jones was currently having a very loud conversation with Alan Blunt. Fed up with the stalemate progress they had made with the Rider case, Mrs. Jones thought it was about time someone told off Blunt.

"We've had Ian Rider at the camp for three days! And Alex has been there for eight! They've been at the same place for three whole days without anyone being the wiser! And the most you can do is sit behind your desk and say you have yet to come up with a plan? I don't believe that for a second!" Mrs. Jones rarely lost her temper, rarely lost control, but she had just about had it with Blunt and his cold, calculating temperament. "What are you planning on doing? Informing Alex that he needs to complete another mission and use Ian as bait this time? Not tell either of them and let Alex go and live with the Pleasures, never knowing his only relative is actually alive? Both are cruel and I won't let you do this!"

Mr. Blunt sat unflinching in the rage of Mrs. Jones and gazed at his office. A few boxes stood in the corner, halfheartedly packed. Blunt was stepping down as head of MI6 in just a few days and had begun cleaning up his office, although there wasn't much to pack. As he looked around, Blunt saw success in every sense of the word. Every big decision he ever had to make was made in his office, including the Rider dilemma. Contrary to popular belief, Alan Blunt deliberated over whether or not to use the teen spy. He didn't want to purposely put a minor in harm's way, but at the end of the day, one life over thousands made his decision.

But here was a curious problem. Ian Rider was alive and Alex could be given back his old life. Except Blunt was unsure if letting the boy know was the right choice. If Alex was told the truth, it could be the best thing for the boy. It could also open up a can of worms and bring to light all the misdeeds MI6 has done. Everything, including the loss of his guardian, would have been for nothing. It could ultimately destroy Alex.

If Alex wasn't told, then he would continue to live in ignorance of his uncle's state. It would be cruel to keep it from him, but if Alex didn't know, would it technically be considered cruel? The boy would be able to pick up the broken pieces MI6 had made of his life and be able to move on eventually.

These arguments were what Blunt wrestled over the past few days, unsure of what to do. And while Mrs. Jones was yelling at him, Blunt realized how tired he was of it all. He had held this job for way to long and it had changed him. He was ready to let someone else make the decisions.

Mrs. Jones stopped talking the moment Blunt stood up. He shuffled through his desk for a moment before grabbing hold of something. He turned and faced her.

"Keep your strong convictions. You'll need it for this job." And as Alan Blunt handed Mrs. Jones a key, he made his final decision he'd ever make as the head of MI6.

* * *

Ian Rider impatiently paced across the small hospital room. A few days ago he had been transferred to the SAS camp to recover and "keep safe." Ian thought it was a load of crap. There was a specific reason why Ian was back at Brecon Beacons but he had yet to figure it out. Right now, all he knew was the confined space was making him claustrophobic. He was ready to leave.

Pulling on civilian clothes that had been brought up for him, Ian dressed quickly. From there, he made his way to the front of the building with ease. It wasn't a big building and you would really have to work to get lost in it. The sole doctor that was employed to work the camp was standing at the front. Of course that would be his luck, Ian thought.

"Mr. Rider. Is everything okay? What are you doing out of your room?" The young doctor had concern in his eyes and placed a hand on Ian's shoulder, as though he was attempting to direct him back to his room. Ian moved the hand off.

"Everything is just fine. I am more than fine. No more scrape or cuts. I'm almost brand new. And I would be brand new if I could just leave and see my family. So I'm off to see the Sergeant of this fine camp and make my way home." Ian said as cheerfully as he could.

"I'm sorry, but that won't be happening tonight. I could arrange a meeting for the two of you tomorrow if you want." The doctor said.

"That won't be necessary. I'll see the sergeant tonight."

"Seriously, Mr. Rider. You need another night of rest. And then we can see about you going home. It's for the best." Upon hearing the doctor's resistance, Ian let his frustration show.

"Listen, Doctor. I have spent the past year of my life locked up with only the thought of my home to get me through it all. I will be damned if I let myself fall into the same position. So if you'll excuse me, I will be seeing the sergeant tonight!" Ian angrily pushed past the doctor and walked into the cool night air.

Remembering the layout of the camp from when he trained with the SAS, Ian made his way to the Sergeant's office. Halfway there, Ian was stopped by the noise coming from the mess hall. Light filled the building and laughter could be heard from inside. It was something Ian had missed during his year of torture, the sound of laughter and of people feeling light hearted.

"I see you have escaped the hospital." The Sergeant had found Ian after being informed that he had walked out.

"It isn't much of a hospital."

"No. It isn't. Honestly though, I was wondering when you'd leave. I knew we couldn't keep there forever."

"Ah, well. You know me. I could never stay in one place for too long." Ian cracked a grin. The Sergeant smiled in response.

"It's good to see you. How long has it been?" Ian was glad to see his old SAS friend. They had trained together. Ian had been going through the process for the first time, while Sean was just doing a brush up course. But that didn't stop the two from becoming fast friends.

"Too long. Has MI6 contacted you yet?"

"No. Not yet." Ian frowned. He didn't like the sound of that.

"Well, then get them on the phone. I'm ready to leave."

"You know that's not how it works."

"I don't care. Figure it out."

* * *

The mess hall of the SAS camp was noisy as usual. The work of the day had yet to exhaust the talkative mouths the men had. It strongly reminded Alex of school. The camp even had a gossip mill, something Alex still managed to be a part of even though the soldiers didn't even know his name. Really, it was as though nothing had changed.

Thankfully though, the soldiers were discussing new information of the injured soldier that had arrived three days ago instead of him. It was the small mercies Alex didn't take for granted.

"And so then, the Sergeant told me the man had been in captivity for over a year and no one knew he was still alive!" Eagle said through a mouthful of mood.

"No he didn't. Why would the Sergeant tell you that? It's sensitive information. Besides, when would he have told you that? We spent the whole day together training." Tiger, K-Units new member, said. Alex rolled his eyes. Honestly, they were like teenagers. It made Alex worry occasionally for the future of his country.

"Guys, stop it. The soldier doesn't concern us. Please, just let me eat in peace." Wolf said grumpily. Unable to help himself, Ben slid slyly into the conversation.

"Actually, from what I know, Eagle is telling the truth. Or at least overheard the truth."

"And how would you know that, Fox?" Snake asked.

"Oh, I have my ways." Ben sneaked a grin at Alex. Alex hid a smile. It wasn't like Alex wanted the psychiatrist to know that eating with K-Unit was helping.

"Uh-huh. And what exactly are those ways?" Wolf asked sarcastically.

"Classified." The men's conversation was halted when two voices became distinct in the din of the mess hall. Soon, all sound in the hall stopped as the voices outside the room grew louder and closer with each word. Eventually, the people making the racket were close enough to the mess hall that individual words could be made out.

"I don't care that you don't know how to, you just need to do it!"

"How the hell do you expect me to contact them? They contact me, I don't contact them!"

"Write a letter, call someone, send smoke signals for all I care! But if they aren't here by the early morning I will find my own way out!"

"And how will you do that?"

"I'll figure it out!" The doors to the mess hall burst open and the sergeant and an unfamiliar man abruptly stopped their conversation. To say the hall was like the cliché scene in a movie was to say fish need water to live. Alex would have thought the SAS would be more original in their reactions.

The sergeant glared down at the men and without saying a word, the men quietly became very interested in their food. The intent was clear: Mind your own business. But Alex couldn't. There was something uneasy about the situation and if there was one thing Alex learned, it was to trust his instincts. The man standing next to the Sergeant looked oddly familiar. So Alex ate his soup as quietly as he could, listening in to the Sergeants' conversation.

"Look. I want to help you. I really do. I'll pull some strings and try to contact MI6 but there are no promises." The familiar man grabbed the Sergeants' arm.

"Please. I need to be gone by tomorrow. I'll stay the night, but if there is no one here by the morning, I will leave. It's just a warning."

"I'll do what I can Ian, but I can't make any promises." Alex's heart stopped in its' place at the mention of the name. His adrenaline skyrocketed and his blood pumped loudly through his veins. It couldn't be his uncle. There had to be many people named Ian that were part of the army. But the man looked too familiar for it to be a coincidence.

Alex stood up.

Ben grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him down.

"Alex. Sit down." He hissed. Alex just shook Ben off. The commotion attracted the attention of the two men and whole mess hall. The familiar man locked eyes with him and Alex knew at once that his uncle was alive and standing in front of him.

"Ian?"

"Alex?" Ian was shocked. The last person he expected to see was Alex at Brecon Beacons. It made no sense to him. The boy he had raised slowly got up from the table but stopped himself from walking over.

"Where did we spend our last Christmas together?" Alex asked rather suddenly.

Bewildered, Ian answered, "At Gunpoint, Colorado. Why'd you ask me that?" But his question was unanswered as the boy ran and wrapped his arms around Ian. The hug was just as confusing to Ian. Alex was 14 the last time Ian saw him and had grown out of spontaneous hugs. But the person Alex was now was not the same person he was the last time Ian saw him. Anyone could tell that and Ian had only seen the boy for three minutes.

The arms quickly retracted and Alex ran an arm across his eyes, as though it was an attempt to keep from crying. Ian put his hands' on Alex's shoulders and studied the boy in front of him. Alex was different. Stockier and more built than the last time he'd seen him, Alex was no longer a boy. That much was clear. But there was something else. It was his eyes, Ian decided. They were old eyes, ones that had seen the horrors of the world. But that also didn't make sense to Ian.

"What are you doing here Alex? Why aren't you with Jack?"

"I thought you died Ian. I thought you died and left me. That's what they told me."

"Who told you? And you didn't answer my question." Ian was growing more concerned for Alex. Something wasn't right.

"Jack died. Ian, she died and I couldn't stop it and that is why I am here." Ian stilled at the words Alex said. Jack couldn't be dead. She was too young. She wasn't part of the world of espionage. It didn't make sense. Again, nothing made sense.

"Alex, whatever happened, to you and to Jack, none of it was your fault, okay? I want you to know that." Ian looked Alex right in the eye as he said this, desperately wanting to fix whatever had broken inside Alex. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Alex looked shiftily around, at Ian, the Sergeant, at K-Unit, Ben, and then back to Ian.

"Not here."

"What not?"

Alex leaned in close to Ian and whispered, "It has to do with MI6."

* * *

Ian and Alex relocated to the Sergeant's office. Just as they were about to leave the mess hall, Ben walked up to them and said he could get in contact with MI6 since he had the new codes. Ian nodded and Alex said to let them know he was wanting to speak with them.

While they waited for an agent to show up, Alex filled in his uncle everything that happened since Ian's supposed death. It was quite an exhaustive tale, but Alex was glad to finally have someone he could share all the details with, someone who wouldn't judge him or pity him. He expressed his anger and helplessness at the situation he was put in. He expressed in anger at his uncle for training him to be a spy. He expressed how deeply sorry he was for everything that happened. But most of all, Alex let it all out. He finally felt safe after a year.

The longer Alex talked, the angrier Ian became. This was not supposed to happen. Even if MI6 truly thought he was dead, then his will would have specified guardianship was to go to Jack. One night, after a particularly rough mission, Ian let slip to Jack that his job was a little more dangerous than she might have suspected. He told her he didn't know what would happen to Alex if he didn't come back from one of his jobs. Immediately, Jack said that she would take care of Alex, no questions asked. After making sure, Ian went to change his will, giving Jack full custody of Alex in the event of his death. And even if Jack's visa was expiring, the government could not have denied her another one.

Ian was angriest at himself for letting himself be captured, for letting himself leave Alex after everyone in his life had already left him. This wasn't the way Alex's life was supposed to go. It wasn't the way any life was supposed to go. Alex was to have choices and make normal teenage mistakes. He wasn't supposed to be a spy at 14 years old and his mistakes weren't supposed to be ones that would have ended the world.

But in the end there were no words that could fix the damage that had been done to Alex. Instead, Ian just held the boy, probably giving him the first prolonged human contact he had had in a while. Dr. Song was right. It would be a long and difficult road for the both of them. But they would get through it.

A soft knock on the door alerted Ian and Alex to another's presence.

"I see you two have finally had your reunion." Mrs. Jones said.

"No thanks to you." Alex said.

"I was already on my way to inform the both of you when I got Ben's call. I would have told you sooner, except I ran into some…obstacles."

"Let me guess. It was Blunt." Ian said drily.

"Yes. He won't be a problem anymore." Mrs. Jones was surprised when Alan Blunt handed her the keys to MI6 a few days early. She was expecting them, but not this soon. She didn't waste a minute however. As soon as Blunt left the office, she called for a ride to Brecon Beacons after quickly explaining there was a change in command. It was easy to assume the responsibility of MI6 and on her ride up to the SAS camp, she vowed to do things differently.

"It's time for the both of you to get on with your lives. Ian, I've already told Alex this, but we will no longer be needing his services. I also think it would be for the best if you didn't work for MI6 anymore either. We'll fix your death certificate. Explain to your friends that you had to immediately go into the witness protection program and had no time to say goodbye to anybody.

"Alex, if you want, you could continue on with what was planned and live with the Pleasures in San Francisco. Or you could stay with your uncle. The choice is yours." Alex looked at his uncle. After the horrendous year he had, it really was no choice.

"I'll stay with Ian."

"Alright. I'll inform Mr. Pleasure. We'll fix it for you. Hopefully we'll never have to speak again."

"I don't plan to." Alex said. With that, Mrs. Jones left. "What are we going to do, Ian?"

Ian Rider shrugged. Everything was different and things would have to change, but for the first time in a year, Ian felt free and happy.

"I don't know, kid, but we'll figure it out. We always do."

 **A/N: That's it. Thanks for sticking it out. For some reason, I just though if this were to ever happen, Ian would be extremely confused, especially since no had explained to him what happened in the year he had been gone. Also, by the way, it's been awhile since I've read the books. I was just recently thinking about the end when this popped in my head. So I do apologize if any of the characters, especially Alex, are out of character. Like I said, this is a sort of AU so it is perfectly plausible for Alex to be acting the way he is in my one-shot here. Anyway, thanks for reading. I really appreciate it.**


End file.
